


culminating correspondence

by mixtapestar



Series: filling up space [2]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Healing, Letters, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Quentin Coldwater Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: Eliot and Quentin write letters back and forth, while Eliot stays in Fillory at Quentin's request.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: filling up space [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988518
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	culminating correspondence

**Author's Note:**

> For Comfortween Day 27: Long Distance Comfort (letters / being there for someone when you can’t be with them).
> 
> This one is a follow-up to day 4, wherein Quentin asks for some space and Eliot pines.
> 
> Thanks again Rubi for being an awesome beta! <3

_Q —_

_I've rewritten this letter ten times. I've decided this one will have to be the final version, so ~~you'll have to~~ please forgive me any poor word choices._

_I know you said you wanted space. Margo suggested that maybe we could still communicate via letter, and that wouldn't be a violation of the space you need. If that's wrong, you can return the book with Penny and I hope you'll accept my apologies. I'll leave you alone for as long as you need, and I'll be here when you're ready._

_If not— the book is enchanted to mirror text with its partner here in Fillory. Any time you write in it, I'll be able to read it in my copy, and vice versa. ~~I'd love~~ It would be great to hear from you, if you're comfortable with this._

_It's bizarre, to be back at Whitespire after everything that's happened. Margo's got a good handle on things, so I mostly help with civil disputes and endeavor as always to bring some culture to this place. It mostly only sticks with kids, but hey, children are the future, right? You'd enjoy the theatre group in Zalia Village, they're trying to put a play together about the Children of Earth from Fillory's history. Every detail is wrong, it's amazing._

_I hope you're doing well. I know that's a cliche thing to say in any format, especially a letter, but I do mean it. I know you were struggling, when I left. ~~Hopefully~~ If there's anything I can do to help (including leaving you alone) just say the word._

_— El_

***

Eliot tries to forget about sending the letter the moment Penny leaves Fillory, note and book in hand. He keeps the book's partner on his nightstand and forces himself not to check it except for once a day. Three days later, he returns from another boring court session and feels the magic coming off the thing. He sits down heavily on the bed, needing a moment. Quentin actually wrote back.

_Eliot,_

_~~I'm so sorry~~ Thank you for your letter. Margo was right, and it's nice to hear from you. I don't want you to leave me alone. I'm sorry if I made you think that. Honestly, it's easier to gather my thoughts this way. You know I can be kind of a mess sometimes when I get talking._

_The theatre group sounds amazing. Let them know they have Former King Quentin's full backing. Actually, can you correct them with details that are even more wrong? Add a couple more Chatwins, see if it sticks._

_There's not much to share here. I'm trying to stay out of the library situation while helping Julia find her magic again. I don't have energy for much more, really._

_~~Sinc Re~~ Missing you, Q_

Eliot's heart swells to read Quentin's words. His weird, loopy scrawl is comforting somehow. And he didn't exactly confirm that he was doing well, but Eliot isn't sure he expected him to be.

He grabs a pen and takes the book to his desk immediately, writing out a response with renewed energy. He promises to do as Quentin's asked, with the theatre group, and shares a few more fun stories from around Fillory.

It's easy to fall into a routine after that. Quentin's letters get longer and livelier, at first responding to whatever Eliot has written, and soon sharing more of his own day-to-day activities. It brightens Eliot's day, even the mundane tasks, thinking of how he'll tell Quentin about it.

Eventually, carefully, Eliot starts talking more about his time trapped within his own body. Quentin, in turn, tells him about the Monster — details that Margo could not or would not share. As painful as some of it is to read, it helps Eliot understand better why Quentin had needed space. He's never begrudged him for it, but it is nice to have perspective, since the request had interrupted something of a big speech on his part.

They've been writing for about six weeks with regularity when Eliot is surprised, coming back one night, to find no reply from Quentin. He knows Quentin is close to a breakthrough on his efforts with Julia and Penny, so he lets himself be disappointed for a few minutes and then lets it go. The next night, when there's still no response, he pens another letter, catching Quentin up just like he normally would. That letter too goes unanswered. He starts to feel dread settling in his stomach once a week has passed with no word from Quentin. He thinks about sending a bunny, or something more urgent, but he doesn't want to break this tenuous, careful relationship they've been rebuilding.

He writes a third letter, short, to the point:

_Q —_

_Haven't heard from you in a week. Is everything okay over there? Me and my fingers can be available at a moment's notice. I've been practicing my battle magic._

_— El_

Another day passes. When he returns to his room that afternoon, right after lunch, the still-open book has a page full of Quentin's loopy handwriting fresh with ink. Eliot takes a deep breath, then sinks down in his chair to read.

_El,_

_I'm so sorry. I promise I'm not ignoring you. All three of your last letters appeared during the five hours I was asleep. Maybe ~~I we you~~ writing between Earth and Fillory isn't the best idea._

Eliot presses his hand against the book so it'll stop shaking. He ignores the other paragraphs for now. He could take those words a number of different ways. Does Quentin want to stop writing? Or maybe…?

He reads on ravenously. Most of the rest of the letter focuses on Quentin's day, since he's only had one on his side of the book. Eliot feels his heart start to calm down, reading through it, until he gets to the last paragraph.

_I started going to therapy right after I got your first letter. I'd been putting it off, but seeing how much effort you put into contacting me got me moving. I told myself I would never be comfortable with you coming back until I worked on my own shit. But I have — worked on it. I'm far from done working on it, but I've got a better handle on things, I think. I've said it before, but I'm really grateful for these letters. I never should have forced you to go away, but I'm so glad you understood what I was asking for._

_You were trying to tell me something, that day, when I was so dismissive. Is it too late to ask what it was?_

_Love, Q_

Eliot reaches up to his cheeks to find tears staining them. He dashes them away before they can fall on the pages and magic their way to Quentin's copy. He sits back in his chair and takes a minute to try to compose himself. His mind spinning, he stands up, paces, sits back down, then gets up to pace some more. He pulls out a separate piece of paper and pens a quick letter to Margo, then heads for the bunnery. He stares at the bunnies hopping along and selects one that reminds him of the start of the key quest. _Can I come over?_ he asks it to deliver, then paces some more while he waits for a reply.

 _Yes. At the penthouse_ , comes the response, and Eliot pets the bunny, finding it a treat before sending it off to Penny with a new message. _Quick trip to Quentin's?_ he sends, and picks up another to add, _I'll owe you one._

_Sure. Ten minutes._

Eliot strides to the throne room, wishing he'd thought to change clothes, but he's not about to hesitate now. He feels like he's worn a path into the stone when Penny finally appears, looking weirdly happy to see him. Eliot doesn't question it, offering his hand, and Penny poofs them straight into Quentin's living room.

He finds Quentin sitting on the couch, clutching at Julia's hand, but the moment he sees the two of them, he shoots up and comes running at Eliot.

The hug is fierce, maybe a little too fierce for his still-healing gut wound, but Eliot grits his teeth and takes the pain. Quentin seems to remember, after a second, shifting his grip but still clinging to him desperately. "I'm so glad you're here," Quentin murmurs into his shoulder.

Eliot sets his head on top of Quentin's and sighs in relief. "Me too."

"Me and Julia were just saying we'd probably head to Brakebills, stay at the Cottage for the night," Penny says.

"Yeah," Julia says, nodding a little too enthusiastically. It's night here, Eliot realizes, well past dark. He wonders how late it is.

"You guys don't have to go," Quentin says, turning his head a little but not letting up his hold on Eliot. Eliot has to fight not to laugh at how unconvincing Quentin sounds. He feels buoyant with Quentin in his arms, like he could float without the aid of magic.

"We are, though," Julia says, squeezing Quentin's shoulder as she walks by. "You two have the place to yourselves," she says pointedly.

"Thanks, Jules," Quentin says, while Eliot meets her gaze in a staring contest. She seems satisfied with whatever she sees, nodding at him before joining Penny in the doorway.

"So," Quentin says as the door shuts, "that was a little obvious."

Eliot laughs. "Their acting talents are about as good as the kids in Zalia Village." He rubs his hands over the expanse of Quentin's back, shivering when he makes a little moan of pleasure. "How long has it been? Since you wrote me back?"

"Since this morning. About fifteen hours," Quentin answers, pulling back to look up at Eliot.

"Jesus," Eliot says. He tilts his head down and brings his forehead to Quentin's, briefly. "We need to talk about how much sleep you're getting, by the way."

Quentin rolls his eyes. "Really? Is that what you want to talk about?"

"No. Yes. It would be an easier topic."

Quentin scoffs. "Maybe for you."

Eliot takes a deep breath, straightening a bit. "I don't have a speech, not anymore. I kind of came here in a hurry. But you know about the Happy Place, you know about me revisiting certain memories. I knew then, and I _definitely_ know now, after these past weeks of writing." He meets Quentin's gaze, his eyes so earnest, glossy with unshed tears. "I love you, Q. I have loved you, in lives past and present. And if you're not ready for that, that's okay. But I had to tell you in person."

Quentin blinks, causing twin tears to fall from his eyes. "I mean, that was kind of a speech," he says with a watery laugh. " _God_ , Eliot," and then he presses up and kisses Eliot full on the mouth.

Each first kiss he's shared with Quentin has been glazed over and blurred. Their very first kiss, before they ever went to Fillory, in a haze of wine, no-longer-bottled emotions, and bad decisions. That first, amazing, completely unexpected kiss at the mosaic, which Eliot wants to remember every detail of, but the time magic makes it never quite seem real. And now, this one, with Quentin's body tight against his, his lips warm and soft but oh so urgent, as if he's trying to telegraph his emotions into the kiss. And maybe Eliot's projecting, but he feels like Quentin is telling him he hasn't been alone in every day of wondering, waiting, and wanting. Eliot hums and leans down further, bringing his hand to the back of Quentin's neck and sweeping his tongue past the seam of Quentin's lips. He vows never to forget a single detail of this kiss. He'll write it down if he has to. Maybe in their book.

Eventually, Quentin pulls back, panting, settling flat on his feet. His lips are swollen from the intensity of their kiss. "Please, don't go back to Fillory. Not yet. I know I can't keep telling you what to do—"

"Q, it's fine. I'm not going anywhere," Eliot says, smiling. He swipes a thumb over Quentin's cheek. "Besides, your roommates took great pains to let us know we had the apartment to ourselves."

"God, they are so not subtle," Quentin says. His blush is beautiful. "Julia's been trying to get me to talk to you for weeks. I told her we were talking, but she said it wasn't the same." Quentin reaches out to place a hand in the center of Eliot's chest. "She was right."

Eliot's heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest; he's sure Quentin can feel it. He bends down to kiss him again, but after a brief taste of his lips, Quentin leans back.

"Wait, wait. I'm—stop distracting me. I'm trying to say something."

"Oh, my deepest apologies," Eliot says. He can't keep the smile off of his face.

"What you said about being ready, I'm— I _have been_ working on trying things even if I don't think I'm ready. And, like, learning the difference between an impulse decision and a risk worth taking." He curls his fingers in where they rest against Eliot's shirt, gathering the fabric into his fist. Eliot's breath catches as Quentin meets his gaze. "I love you too, is what I guess I'm trying to say."

"Oh," Eliot says, as if it's a surprise. As if he hadn't _known_ , deep down, through all the words they'd sent back and forth, and the way Quentin looked at him when he appeared in the living room.

"Yeah. And if you, um, didn't want to go back to Fillory, or wanted to, like, split your time between the two, I mean. There's room for you here."

Eliot feels relief spread through him, settling parts of him he didn't even realize were tense. "I'd love to stay," he whispers. This time, when he pulls Quentin back in for a kiss, he doesn't pull away.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [mixtapestar](https://mixtapestar.tumblr.com)! Comments are love! <3


End file.
